Haunted
by CeasedExistence
Summary: Sequel to Ghostly Wail. And so ends the haunting of Tucker Foley...


_AN: I know, I'm a bad person-I need to stop posting oneshots and get my ass in gear so I can work on TFTF...I'm sorry( The plot bunnies! They made me do it! Rated for mature themes... sequel to Ghostly Wail (I told you I'd get one done! Aha!) Enjoy. I don't own Danny Phantom. _

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**Haunted**

Sometimes, Tucker Foley wished he could turn invisible.

It would be wonderful to have that power, to be able to just disappear whenever the world got to be too much and you just needed to get away from it all.

After all, it wasn't like he had any friends that he could unload all of his troubles on, not anymore. Oh sure, he had lots of pals, people to go drink and party with all night long- but really, in the end, he wouldn't trust any of them as far as he could throw them. And he could throw them pretty far.

You see, Tucker Foley was no longer the slightly pudgy, beret wearing Techno geek that he had once been. Time and necessity had hardened him, hard muscle and sinew replacing boyish softness and idealism. After his best friend had died fighting Skulker, Sam had snapped, gone insane- so in reality, even though only one of his two best friends had died that day, he had lost both of them, and he was left alone.

But that was okay- after all, he still had memories of Danny (even if most of them included mortal danger of one sort or another), and he visited Sam every Tuesday, as long as he wasn't working (even if she was drugged beyond belief and could no longer recognize him). Yes, he still had one best friend in spirit, if not in body, and the other in body, even if her spirit had been shattered.

Yes, Tucker reflected bitterly, swirling the bottle of foul smelling brew in his hand and taking another gulp –not too much, he couldn't afford to be incapacitated, what of a ghost attacked?- it was truly ironic that he, who had always been considered the weakest member of their Golden Trio, was the only one to survive that attack, spirit, body, or otherwise.

But had he truly survived? He was still breathing, yes, and his heart still beat in his chest. But now he went out every day and fought the ghosts that threatened Amity Park- the Fentons had quit ghost hunting once they found out about Danny's… condition- and now he was the only thing preventing a total ghost takeover. Every day he fought ghosts, and every night he fought himself, drinking and partying and trying to forget. And eventually he would realize that he couldn't forget, because they haunted him, Danny and Sam. Every minute of every day he kept expecting to see them, to hear Sam make a wisecrack and smirk knowingly when Danny laughed a second too long.

And so, in an effort to drive away _his_ ghosts, his own personal demons, he fought the closest tangible thing that he could find- the ghosts that invaded Amity Park on a daily basis. And when he couldn't find a ghost to fight, he retreated to his cave of an apartment to drink cheap beer and reflect bitterly on the good times.

God, he was only eighteen and he was having a goddamn life crisis already! Pathetic, really. In a sudden fit of anger he drained the bottle and threw it, letting it smash against the opposite wall. Sighing, he got up to clean the shards of glass before someone (namely, him- he lived alone) stepped on them. Walking over, he grabbed the first shard he saw- a particularly large one with a long, smooth edge- and hissed when he jabbed his thumb with it. When he looked to examine the small wound, his eye caught the shard of glass, and he froze.

Well, why not?

Because he was the only one who could protect Amity from the ghost menace, that's why.

_But there are no ghosts in Amity,_ Danny's voice murmured in his ear, _and there haven't been for awhile now, have there?_

"Stop it!" Tucker cried, and clasped his hands over his ears, the shard falling to land on the cheap carpet in front of him.

_But it's true,_ Sam joined in. _They don't really need you anymore, do they? Who would need you? After all, your just the Techno geek turned wanna-be ghost hunter, trying to fill shoes that are way too big for his tiny, girly little feet…_

The voices changed now, became softer, kinder. _Yes,_ they whispered, _you have finished your duty here- come back to us, Tucker. It will be just like before, won't it?_

"Just like before…" he repeated in a murmur, his eyes half lidded and focused on the shard in front of him- the shard that somehow seemed to call to him, to become more beautiful and alluring every second.

_Yes,_ they prompted- he could_ hear_ the smiles in their voices. _Yes, just like before, we promise. We'll always be friends, won't we, Tuck? _

"Always…" he reached out and picked up the beautiful, tempting piece of glass- so sharp, exactly what he needed- and put it to his wrist. Inside of him, something was screaming, but Danny and Sam blocked it out until it became an uncomfortable itch in the back of his mind.

_Yes, always friends. We made a promise, to always be friends. We said that nothing would ever separate the three of us, that we wouldn't let anything come between us…_ so convincing, and he had made that promise, he remembered, in kindergarten, when the three of them had first met.

"Nothing…" and quickly, before he could change his mind, the shard dashed across one wrist and then the other. Crimson pooled around his prone form, but Tucker couldn't tell- his eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at his apartment, or at his blood staining the ground. Tucker Foley would never look at anything, ever again. And nothing would come between the three friends, ever again- not even, it seemed, death.

And so ends the haunting of Tucker Foley.


End file.
